


"Once in a Thousand Years" Has Come Today

by lucitae



Category: Produce 101 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/lucitae
Summary: Youngmin only wanted to purchase a get-well-soon bouquet but ends up with a room full of roses.Or alternatively, that florist AU.





	"Once in a Thousand Years" Has Come Today

**Author's Note:**

> July 20, 2017. We were first blessed with a [vlive](http://www.vlive.tv/video/36129?channelCode=FC659) and then this [work of amazing art](http://mentalaie.tumblr.com/post/163179067611). Also the only way to cope with stress is clearly to write and think about anything but the source of stress.
> 
> Prompt taken from [this](http://alloftheprompts.tumblr.com/post/141605536618/flower-shop-aus) and [this](http://onetruepairingideas.tumblr.com/post/139086591959/suddenly-florist-aus) (loosely). Self-indulgent to the core. As usual, a huge thank you to [my dearest kouhai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/landfill/pseuds/landfill) for holding my hand the entire time.

 

 

 

> **November**

 

 

Woojin was inflicted with appendicitis and is currently recovering from the surgery. Youngmin skims over the texts, thanking the nurse who had kept him updated. Friends away from their families have to look after each other, right? Youngmin reasons as he waits at the counter for seollentang, hoping that the nurses would let Woojin have it for dinner.

Despite having the oxtail soup in hand, Youngmin still feels as if he's going empty handed. The thought nags at him.

 _Flowers,_ his aunt says, chirpily, lips bright red as she swings a bright yellow bouquet around in the air, _can cheer anyone up_. They are interspersed with small white flowers and Youngmin nods in agreement as he follows his aunt into the hospital room where his grandfather lies, grumbling of pain from his hip fracture. His grandfather stops grumbling the moment Youngmin enters and his face brightens too. _They_ do _cheery anyone up_ , Youngmin thinks as he hurries to his grandfather's side for a hug.

Flowers. That's what he's missing.

 

 

There's a newly opened flower shop, Youngmin recalls, a block or two away from his apartment. It's a pretty little place, he notes, taking a quick glance at the arrangements placed outside to invite one in. A wooden open sign hangs on the door and Youngmin finds that oddly refreshing, a break from neon that demands attention. The bell above tinkles as he pushes the door open. His _hello_ dies on his lips when he's embraced by someone's song, not light enough to be called pure but not too gritty either, with a groove Youngmin finds intriguing enough ( it isn't anything he's heard before ) that he forgets why he's here and walks towards the source of the voice.

The shop is quaint and makes up for the lack of space with shelves and racks, creating a path that snakes through the building, making it larger than it seems. It isn't until Youngmin rounds the corner of the last aisle does he see the source of the song: a young man, around his age, clad in a blue collared shirt, back facing youngmin as he waters the plants before him, lost in a world created between two white earbuds.

Youngmin stands there, transfixed.

 

 

The song ends ( as all good things do ) and the boy shakes the watering can, confirming its depletion before turning around. Youngmin doesn't know what to do with himself and neither does the boy. There's red seeping into the boy's ― Sewoon, says his name tag ― face. Youngmin thinks there's some creeping into his own face as well. He has an apology on the tip of tongue, but it is interrupted by a "How can I help you today?"

"Right," Youngmin offers a half-hearted chuckle, reminding himself why he's here while rubbing the back of his neck, "my friend just had surgery and I wanted to buy him flowers to cheer him up."

Sewoon seems to busy himself with hunting for the right bouquet, yellow paired with white, before interacting with Youngmin again. Youngmin doesn't blame him and waits patiently, wondering if the soup had cooled too much to provide any comfort. When Sewoon returns, there's a _I hope he gets better soon_ before Youngmin steps out the shop and thanks him for the well wishes.

 

 

Youngmin forgets about the incident till later that night.

( He dreams of a tune, so familiar, yet it slips from his mind upon waking up. )

 

 

( And again. )

 

 

( And again. )

 

 

( This time it is of crossed legs, a blue shirt, a wooden guitar, and a smile.  
It vanishes without a trace when he wakes, leaving behind only a ghost of something pleasant. )

 

 

Youngmin finds himself wandering, listless, and comes to when he realizes he's in front of the flower shop he had visited two weeks ago. He's not sure what compels him, but he enters and reasons that last time he didn't have the time to appreciate the shop and all the flora it offered.

It’s pretty, Youngmin notes. The colors are dispersed throughout the room and the herbs are near the front for the more practical humans. Most of the plants housed here Youngmin can recognize but only few can he name. So he explores, trying to figure out how many he can recognize, name, or identify as completely foreign to him until a voice chimes in from behind him.

“How can I help you today?”

Youngmin jumps a bit at the vaguely familiar voice. His suspicions are confirmed when he turns around and an inexplicable sense of guilt washes over him. Sewoon has a pleasant smile on his face but Youngmin barely sees it and points behind Sewoon as panic sets in.

“May I have one of those?”

A perplexed look washes over Sewoon’s face as he looks in the general direction Youngmin pointed at and decides to grab the flower closest to the area.

“This?” he asks for confirmation as he proffers a single rose and Youngmin nods, only wishing to leave this place as soon as possible before he’s thoroughly mortified. _Would apologizing two weeks late be inappropriate?_ occupies Youngmin’s mind on a loop.

Sewoon nods in return and begins wrapping the rose, humming under his breath, barely audible. Youngmin’s brain mutes itself as he watches nimble fingers tuck the rose away in a layer of paper.

There’s the usual courteous exchange of words and Youngmin leaves with the rose in hand, wondering what he’ll do with it.

He places it in a vase and puts it on the shoe cabinet near the front door.

 

 

The fragrance disappears by day 4.

 

 

Dulls and sags at day 5.

 

 

Shrivels and wilts at day 6.

 

 

The petals fall into Youngmin’s hand with a single touch and he finds Sewoon at the counter again when he asks for another one.

 

 

 

 

> **December**

 

 

 

Youngmin thinks he sees Sewoon smile a bit brighter when he enters the shop. He decides to think nothing of it.

“The usual?” Sewoon asks as if it was a coffee order instead of a rose.

“Yeah,” Youngmin affirms, throat dry.

 

 

Youngmin returns the next day. Sewoon’s surprise apparent in his face but makes no mention of it and thanks him, as usual, when handing Youngmin the rose he’s purchased.

Youngmin is grateful for small mercies.

 

 

When he returns to his apartment, Youngmin adds the new rose to the vase. The single rose looks less lonely with company.

 

 

Youngmin returns the next day and the day after that.

 

 

Youngmin stops by on a Tuesday only to find himself face to face with someone who is not Sewoon.

He’s greeted with a chirpy: “Welcome! How can I help you today?” The boy is all smiles and friendly. The name tag reads Gwanghyun. Youngmin can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment.

“A rose please,” Youngmin requests, trying to find the best way to ask a question without being rude.

“Red?”

Youngmin nods to confirm.

Gwanghyun’s grin is still pleasant as he begins wrapping the lone rose. Youngmin hesitates but eventually gives in.

“The other employee, Sewoon ― I think his name is,” Youngmin starts, hoping it sounds natural enough, “does he not work here anymore?”

“Sewoon-hyung?” Gwanghyun seems to brighten up at the mention. “He still works here. Mostly does the afternoon shifts except for Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Ah, I see,” Youngmin says before thanking Gwanghyun and taking his merchandise before Gwanghyun starts asking questions.

 

 

There are four roses jammed into a single vase as Youngmin mulls over his life choices.

He finds his attention drawn to it and moves it to his desk to liven up his studying environment. The petals are soft to the touch ( like so many other things ).

 

 

He decides to return every day after that for consistency.

 

 

Sewoon already has the rose pre-packaged when Youngmin arrives. Again, a twinge of disappointment because the transaction ends too soon. However, there’s a small part of Youngmin elated by the thought that Sewoon had come to expect his patronage.

 

 

On the eve of Christmas, Youngmin is greeted by a cheerful Gwanghyun who has also learned to, Sewoon’s tip he claims, prepare Youngmin’s rose beforehand. As Gwanghyun is ringing Youngmin up, he asks: “Is this for someone special?” Quickly followed by a “you must be really dedicated.”

Youngmin flushes as the image of the other florist flashes through his mind. “No it’s,” Youngmin almost stammers, “it’s not for anyone in particular.”

“Ah,” Gwanghyun sounds, smile turning sheepish. “I’m sorry for asking.”

Youngmin shakes his head as he takes the rose from Gwanghyun’s hand. “Don’t apologize,” he says, thanking him again whilst wishing him happy holidays before leaving the store.

 

 

That night, Youngmin dreams of gifting the rose to Sewoon.

 

 

 

 

> **January**

 

 

 

Every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail, purchases a rose in the hopes of giving it away.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it.

 

 

One day, in mid January, Sewoon learns Youngmin’s name.

 

 

 

 

> **February**

 

 

 

January was marked by indecision and hesitation so Youngmin hoped February would be different.

 

 

Every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it.

 

 

On the fourteenth, Youngmin finds Sewoon’s fingers wrapped in bandages. Instinct propels him to inspect: carefully holding Sewoon’s hand by his wrist before looking between the florist’s fingers and the florist’s eyes.

“What happened?” Youngmin asks, concerned.

“The busiest day of the year and almost a thousand roses. I wasn’t careful.” Sewoon tries to give Youngmin a reassuring smile but Youngmin doesn’t buy it.

“Did you sanitize it?”

Sewoon nods. “Manager made sure it did. Give it a few days and it’ll be fine.”

“Sorry,” Youngmin apologizes, realizing he is part of the problem. Apologizes again when he realizes he’s still holding Sewoon’s hand and Sewoon had been too kind to even retract it.

 

 

“Still a single rose? Even on Valentine’s Day?” Sewoon asks when he’s handing over the rose Youngmin had just purchased.

Youngmin takes another glance at Sewoon’s hands and nods. There’s a twinge in his heart he can’t quite seem to name and the overwhelming sense to apologize again. Instead, he forces a smile onto his face and says: “a single rose is all I need.”

Sewoon nods as if he understands and walks Youngmin to the door.

 

 

Every single day, after that, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it.

 

 

 

 

> **March**

 

 

 

Daehwi visits on a chilly March morning and claims Youngmin’s bed, swinging his legs as he watches his hyung maneuver around the apartment, trying to make tea for his visitor. The first thing Daehwi notices, of course, is the vase overflowing with roses. He wants to chide his hyung for not buying a larger vase and questions: “Is this from Valentine’s Day?” After all, Youngmin has no shortages of fans.

Daehwi frowns upon inspection. Something isn’t adding up with the amount of wilted roses and ones that look like they were bought today. He decides to do Youngmin a favor and starts removing the ones that are on the verge of withering away.

“Don’t toss them away,” Youngmin cries out when he sees Daehwi organizing, setting the cups down and quickly gathering the roses to one side of the table, opposite of Daehwi.

“I’ve been so busy studying for exams I didn’t have time profile them yet.”

“Profile them?” Daehwi asks and notices how Youngmin flushes at the question

“It’s nothing,” Youngmin quickly interjects. Daehwi doesn’t buy it but lets it slide.

“If you wanted them to last longer,” Daehwi comments instead, running his thumb across a petal of a fresher rose, “you could add a few drops of vodka with a tablespoon of sugar. Change the water every other day.”

Youngmin looks at Daehwi and the boy just shrugs. “My mother used to love keeping bouquets around the house,” he explains, “I’m assuming yours isn’t a bouquet.”

Youngmin decides to take a sip of his tea. Daehwi does the same and waits until Youngmin talks. He’s always been patient, after all.

 

 

Youngmin tells Daehwi of the roses but not the reason nor of the growing book of pressed rose petals, reminding Youngmin of his sentiments.

 

 

Every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it.

 

 

A wednesday, late March. Youngmin smiles at the familiar tinkle above him as he steps into the floral shop only to find Gwanghyun arranging the plants near the front.

Perhaps Youngmin’s face had been too obvious because Gwanghyun quickly, after offering a smile and the usual _welcome_ , explains: “Sewoon-hyung is sick with the flu.”

The information seeps in as Youngmin thanks Gwanghyun for the rose he purchased and leaves the store. Youngmin almost laughs at how pathetic he’s been.

He has no excuse to go visit Sewoon. Their conversations have never made it past daily pleasantries and yet Youngmin had wanted to confess with a single flower. They could only be quantified as acquaintances, if Youngmin was being generous.

Here he is, nursing a one-sided crush, unable to even visit and comfort someone he cares about as a friend.

 _Pathetic_ , he thinks again, crushing a bit of the stem in his fist. The thorns had long been pruned at the cost of pretty fingers so Youngmin’s doesn’t get injured at all.

For a moment he thinks about chucking the rose away, but doesn’t.

 

 

Youngmin doesn’t visit the shop again till the last petal falls from his newly purchased rose.

 

 

 

 

> **April**

 

 

 

When Youngmin finally returns he finds Sewoon behind the counter. A gentle “it’s been a while” greets him and a smile, soft around the edges.

Youngmin’s just grateful his knees don’t give way.

“Yeah. It has,” Youngmin finally says when he finds his voice again. Again, it is far too late for him to make a comment about Sewoon’s recovery so he leaves it at that.

“Manager will be pleased to learn about your return,” Sewoon says as he begins wrapping a rose. They had stopped waiting for Youngmin last week.

Youngmin thinks it sounds hopeful. _What about you?_ remains lodged in his throat so Youngmin smiles instead.

 

 

And so it begins again:  
Every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it.

 

 

( This time when Youngmin dreams, it is of an empty flower shop, void of all human life. He does not know where they went nor how to find them again. )

 

 

Something about today makes him drag out the time at the flower shop a bit longer. Four in the afternoon are generally quiet periods but it is particularly quiet today. They had started pre-wrapping his roses again, in anticipation of his arrival, so time is cut short once more.

Sewoon sees him to the door but Youngmin lingers: desiring substance, a conversation. So, he points to a red camilla and asks, “what do those mean?”

Sewoon turns in the direction and laughs softly. “Just because I work here,” he says, shaking his head, “doesn’t mean I know everything about flowers.”

Youngmin’s embarrassment shows on his face with a tinge of red and mutters an apology under his breath.

Desperate to change the subject and continue any semblance of a conversation, Youngmin brings up: “The song you were singing the first time we met, was it an original? I can’t find it anywhere.”

It’s Sewoon’s turn to be embarrassed. It takes Sewoon a few moments before he confirms: “Something I’m still working on.”

Youngmin forgets of his original purpose when Sewoon offers him a smile, shy and uncertain.

“You should think about uploading it somewhere. It’s the type of music I would listen to,” Youngmin says, giving Sewoon a smile in return before waving goodbye.

It isn’t until he’s a block away from the shop does he realize what he’d just said

 

 

( That night, Sewoon returns to the apartment he shares with Gwanghyun and looks up the meaning of a red camelia.

Victoria’s dictionary says _my destiny is in your hands_   ; the Japanese say _in love, perishing with grace_.

Sewoon decides to think nothing of it. )

 

 

 

 

> **May**

 

 

 

And even though every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail...   
               Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
               And every single day, he leaves with it.  
...Some things have begun to change.

 

 

Youngmin enters the shop only to halt in front of a new import. It takes him a moment or two before he turns to Sewoon, apologetic. “They reminded me of Busan,” he explains.

Sewoon takes a glance at the new flower. _Yellow Butterfly Bush_ his manager had declared proudly upon bringing in the clustered balls of small yellow flowers. Sewoon only nodded. But now he sees a slight resemblance to the rapeseed fields in Busan ( vaguely. He probably would see it more if he was home sick. )

“You’re also from Busan?” Sewoon asks, polite and Youngmin nods. “I couldn’t tell.”

Youngmin rubs the nape of his neck that Sewoon has come to associate with embarrassment.

“I try not to slip up,” Youngmin says before thinking back to Sewoon’s words. His brows knit a bit. “Also? Does this mean that you are―”

Sewoon nods and chuckles.

“I would’ve never guessed.”

Sewoon grins at that and adds, “I moved to Seoul at an early age in pursuit of my dreams.”

Youngmin’s soft _no wonder_ is full of appreciation and Sewoon finds himself grinning wider.

 

 

Despite returning to the flower shop every single day, Youngmin continues to wear his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And although he leaves with it every single day, some things have begun to change.

 

 

“I was thinking,” Youngmin says one afternoon, hesitant, “of trying a hand at raising some flowers on my own to brighten up my living space. Can you help me with it?”

“I can try,” Sewoon offers with a smile before walking around the shop, looking for something suitable. Youngmin follows him closely.

“I would grow a peach tree or an orange one,” Sewoon speaks in between aisles as he searches for something manageable for a new gardener. Free fruit isn’t easy to find these days.”

Youngmin nods, wondering if he could get away with such a thing back on his family farm and decides against it.

“Let’s start with cactus,” Sewoon decides after a while. “And if you decide you want to look after some different ones, you can consult me later,” he offers with a smile and Youngmin can’t refuse. ( He wasn’t going to anyway. )

 

 

A week later, Youngmin asks for another recommendation.

Sewoon briefly mentions zinnias for their ease in growing but also notes the fact that they can grow to four feet tall. So he fetches a packet of seedlings instead.

“White clover,” he explains, “they used to be considered a weed because of how well they grow. Manager wanted to incorporate them into bouquets but it didn’t work.”

Sewoon presses the package gently into Youngmin’s palm.

“Hopefully starting from scratch will prove to be fun.” Sewoon offers a smile and then proffers a list of materials Youngmin would need to grow them on their own. Part of Youngmin is tempted to ask Sewoon to accompany him in picking out the tools and materials but decides that it is asking for too much.

 

 

There’s a sense of accomplishment when Youngmin sees the seedling. He takes a picture and shows it to Sewoon when he visits the next day.

 

 

 

 

> **June**

 

 

 

The same pattern is still on repeat. Hasn’t ceased since April.

Every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it.

But on some days, he leaves with a new plant to add to his apartment.

 

 

The next time, Sewoon mentions how beautiful a field of blue flax flowers are and recommends the ranunculus for growing. Youngmin takes an instant liking to the delicate flower with the color intensity and petal amount that could put a rose to shame.

 

 

It is a dry month. Youngmin doesn’t bring up his gardening project until he has more to prove.

( But when he does, he clips a few and sends them to his mother, grandmother, and aunt. His aunt sends him a thank you letter and his mother and grandmother send him a box of fresh vegetables in return. )

 

 

Thus:  
Every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it and a memory of a conversation about anything under the sun.

 

 

 

> **July**

 

 

 

The same pattern is still on repeat. Hasn’t ceased since April.

Every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it.

But on some days, he leaves with a new plant to add to his apartment.

 

 

Youngmin finds July to be temperamental. Usually sunny, humid, and hot. Sometimes just weepy. And as if on cue, the sky begins pouring the moment Youngmin pays and is about to leave.

He stares at the running civilians outside looking for shelter and the rain with no end in sight.

“You could stay here until it stops,” Sewoon offers and starts unfastening the apron, “if you don’t mind.”

Youngmin doesn’t.

Sewoon offers a sheepish smile as he disappears. He then returns with a wooden guitar in tow.

“Do you bring your guitar to work every day?” Youngmin asks, hoping he doesn’t come off as rude.

“No,” Sewoon answers as he seats himself, legs crossing as he balances the guitar on his thigh, “only on days like this.”

( It feels oddly like deja vu, even though Youngmin has never seen this scene before. )

Part of Youngmin gets it. No customer would be buying flowers during a downpour and July is just the beginning of monsoon season.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Sewoon says. Youngmin shakes his head. Sewoon flashes him another smile and launches into song.

Halfway through, Youngmin is convinced he could become addicted to this ambience: the smell of a city being cleansed by rainfall, the soft strumming of a guitar, and Sewoon’s voice as it resonates through the shop.

They spend the rest of the afternoon like this: in each other’s company until the rain lets up.

 

 

“Why don’t you come listen to my band perform?” Sewoon asks one day before quickly adding, “if you can of course.”

Youngmin stands there, startled but immediately gives way to a grin. “I’d love to. What day?”

“Friday nights at a local café. I’ll text you the details.”

Youngmin’s smile grows brighter.

 

 

Youngmin stares at the phone and at the sign above him. Bracing himself, he enters Café Bitter Sweet Sound. He decides to nurse a drink and wait ( meanwhile trying not to become one with the chairs ), appreciating how it is just as quaint as the floral shop he frequents. He thinks he can see why Sewoon chose this place.

Nothing really prepares him for the performance he witnesses, not even after the afternoon session in the midst of flowers.

Youngmin can feel Sewoon’s enthusiasm and happiness from where he sits. Sewoon’s eyes are closed as he pours his soul into the night, the customers keep their conversations to a low volume to appreciate, and Youngmin can’t keep the smile off his face.

 

 

When Sewoon’s performance with his band ends, he joins Youngmin, bright-eyed and giddy as he asks, “So, what did you think?”

Youngmin stirs the straw in his drink, staring at it as if his drink held secrets to the world. “I would return again,” Youngmin confesses and thinks it was worth admitting when he looks up and sees pure happiness engraved into Sewoon’s face.

 

 

“Have you ever seen a field of phlox,” Sewoon asks before showing Youngmin a picture. Youngmin shakes his head but appreciates the purple field of flowers illuminated on Sewoon’s phone.

Sewoon hums a bit before saying, “petunias then. They are also relatively easy to grow once you transplant them.” The term escapes Youngmin so Sewoon disappears to the back and brings out a potted petunia.

“Move it to a bigger pot and it’ll grow well for you.”

 

 

Every single day, Youngmin returns to the flower shop without fail.  
Every single day, Youngmin wears his heart on his sleeve, clutched tightly in his hand, and tucked behind his back.  
And every single day, he leaves with it.

 

 

The weather has been particularly dreary the past few days, Youngmin notes as he shakes out his umbrella as he enters the shop.

Sewoon mentions currants and the food it could accompany. Summer foods he claims. He then offers Youngmin a packet of seeds for moss rose and Youngmin wonders what colors he will cultivate this time.

 

 

Gwanghyun asks him on a humid day, again, if these roses are for anyone. Youngmin grips the rose a bit tighter and thinks about the past few months.

“There’s someone I like,” Youngmin confesses, “I’ve been planning on giving them to the individual but I haven’t worked up the courage yet.” Youngmin laughs at himself but feeling oddly liberated at putting feelings and thoughts into words.

“I wish you the best of luck,” says Gwanghyun, kind as ever.

 

 

“Do you want to try something more challenging?” was how this shopping trip began as Sewoon recommended the planting of fuchsia. Because of limited space, the best option was a hanging basket.

“I thought about lilacs, cosmos, or the African lily. They can be potted and are relatively easy to cultivate but I thought you would enjoy the fuchsia a bit more,” Sewoon says and Youngmin can’t disagree. Sewoon had shown him a picture of the two-toned flower and Youngmin had instantly fell in love.

Thankfully, Sewoon had been so kind to accompany Youngmin on selecting the right kind of hanging basket ( who knew there could be so many ), giving suggestions off of the notes he’s taken on the phone. Youngmin tries not to fidget when Sewoon’s elbow brushes against his.

Youngmin treats Sewoon to dinner as a thank you and tries not to think too much of it.

 

 

Daehwi makes a ruckus when he visits Youngmin. “Since when did you become interested in growing flowers, hyung?”

“I’m not sure. It happened in a spur of a moment but now I find them therapeutic.” Youngmin shrugs.

Daehwi raises a brow at him before exploring the new collections.

“You’re awfully romantic,” Daehwi comments, leaning in to smell the ranunculus.

“What do you mean?”

Daehwi stares at Youngmin, incredulous. “You mean you just picked them at random?”

Youngmin shakes his head. “Someone helped me out with them. I told him I just wanted something easy to grow.”

Daehwi takes a sharp inhales. Stops. Then paces around the room.

“Hyung, maybe… he's...” he trails off and clenches and unfurls his fist, seemingly debating. He makes a decision and says while walking around the room and pointing to the respective plants: “A white clover means _think of me_ , the ranunculus means _you are radiant with charms_ , a petunia represents _your presence soothes me_ , moss roses are a confession of love, and fuchsia spells _humble love_.

“I don’t know if the cactus is an accident or not but it can mean _ardent love_ ,” Daehwi explains and then looks at Youngmin who has turned into a shade of red. “Are you okay, hyung?”

“Yeah,” Youngmin says, throat dry. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Daehwi doesn’t look convinced so he grabs a glass of water for his hyung who downs it in a gulp.

And then: “it can’t be possible,” Youngmin mutters, “he told me he doesn’t know what flowers mean when I last asked him.”

“What kind of luck would you need for this to just be a mere coincidence?” Daehwi interjects. “It doesn’t add up.”

Youngmin offers Daehwi a smile to reassure him ( but mostly himself, because it has to be a coincidence right? ). Daehwi just sighs, exasperated.

 

 

Youngmin pulls out his phone when Daehwi leaves and tries to recall the mentioned flowers:

  * Peach: _your charms are unequaled_
  * Orange blossom: _your purity equals your loveliness_
  * Zinia: _I mourn your absence_
  * Flax: _I feel your kindness_
  * Phlox: _our souls are united_
  * Currant: _thy frown will kill me_
  * Lilac: _first emotions of love_
  * Cosmos: _joy in love and life_
  * African lily (agapanthus): _love letter_



But this comes from a dictionary someone created. Youngmin tries to brush it off as a coincidence ( or the universe's sense of a practical joke ) and goes for a run to clear his mind.

 

 

Somehow, Youngmin finds himself in front of the flower shop, despite jogging with the determination of _anywhere but here_. The thoughts have taken root. He shakes his head and takes another lap around the block before jogging in place a street across from the flower shop.

He can see Sewoon inside. The same blue shirt as before. Youngmin crosses the street.

 

 

“Do you mean it?” Youngmin asks when he spills into the shop. Sewoon’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Do you mean it?” Youngmin tries again, short of breath, “the flowers. The meanings. Did you know?”

Sewoon stills where he stands before saying, quietly: “And what if I did?”

 

 

Youngmin thinks his heart stops or the universe slows or something equally cliched and has to regulate his breathing before he can function again.

“May I have a red rose, please?” Youngmin requests, fingers pointing behind Sewoon like he once did.

Sewoon nods and picks up the pre-wrapped rose. Youngmin shakes his head. “It’s fine unwrapped,” he says. So Sewoon just hands it to Youngmin.

Youngmin rolls the stem in between his thumb and his index, feeling the grooves of where the thorns were excised.

The following transaction becomes a silent yet familiar one, without the need for words to be completed. Youngmin pays Sewoon like he’s done for every day in the past few months and Sewoon walks Youngmin to the door like he’s done for every day in the past few months.

Youngmin turns around to bid Sewoon goodbye.

 

 

 _And what if I did?_ Sewoon had said.

Youngmin clutches the rose tighter, feeling the grooves dig into his skin.

 

 

He wonders if there will ever be a day like today, if there will ever be another day he’s so close to spilling, almost filled with the courage he had sought for the past few months.

 

Youngmin closes his eyes. Opens them and looks into Sewoon’s. He can’t help it when he feels a blush creep into his face.

 

( His heart is in his hands. )

 

“I’ve wanted to give this to you for a while now,” Youngmin says before bringing the rose back into sight and handing it to Sewoon. “Will you go out with me?”

 

Sewoon smiles as his closes his hands around the rose. “I’d love to.”

 

( And places it in a pair of trustworthy ones. )

**Author's Note:**

> I am a pile of trash for ponyopaca. Sue me.
> 
> Title taken from this [quote](http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/69697-it-is-said-there-are-flowers-that-bloom-only-once). The flower dictionary I used is [this one](http://blogs.isb.bj.edu.cn/17oliviat/files/2014/05/victorias-flower-dictionary.pdf%0A). And Cafe Bitter Sweet Sound actually exists! [This](http://krockisreal.com/2014/07/11778) is the post I read when trying to find a setting for the live music cafe.
> 
> Half way through, I really wanted to just publish this fic in bullet list format because what is writing, what are words, how does English work? I still find my characterizations lacking and unsatisfactory but I hope you found a part you enjoyed.
> 
> I also apologize for those who saw a blank document. It took me an hour to fix it (the problem was the rose emojis that were originally part of each section title).
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


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